


Spilled Coffee

by wondefully_wandering_alone



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, dont even ask me bc i dont have an answer, idk what this is guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 12:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wondefully_wandering_alone/pseuds/wondefully_wandering_alone
Summary: Art student Jake has a crush on the nude model from his life-drawing class. He doesn't know her name, who she is, where she comes from or what she does - the only thing he does know pretty well is her body. (College AU)





	Spilled Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a school assignment and while I did imagine Jake and Amy while writing this, I did not stick to their actual characters a lot - this is just an AU that has absolutely nothing to do with the NYPD and also Jake is pretty OOC (i still wanted to upload it though)

Life-drawing was Jake’s favourite subject. It had taken a considerate amount of time for him to find a liking to it, but once he did, he couldn’t help but look forward to the evening lessons every Thursday, from six to eight p.m..

At first, he believed that the models for him and the other students to draw were going to be different every time, but after a couple of months he got used to the four or five rotating bodies and attached faces that would present their body to be sketched, in exchange for a bit of money from the university.

There was a middle-aged woman with crinkled eyes and a heavy bottom. A man likely in his 30s with a thick beard and a lot of hair on the rest of his body as well. A younger man, only a few years Jake’s senior, with a bored faced and a lazy posture. And a young girl, the girl who made this Jake’s favourite subject.

She was his age, he was sure of it. She had to be a student too, but he had never seen her on campus before, so he couldn’t be certain. Sometimes though, she would look so tired and drained from all energy when they all were too, and it had to be the stress of college, it just had to be.

Her face was heart-shaped with thick, glossy, dark brown hair past her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep brown that he’d love to look at for the entirety of the time she spent there as their model, but he had to concentrate on her body instead of the minor details of her face, which wasn’t necessarily a disadvantage either.

Jake had spent hours looking at her body now. Dozens of different positions that had to be sketched quickly before she would move again, showing a new side of herself, and her mocha skin never seemed to end. There was always more to explore and study, another nub and crevice to watch, another position to teach him human anatomy.

Her body was slim and lean, always perched on the little wooden stool in the middle of the room. Sometimes she would lean forward and do a thinker-pose, or she would hold the rims of the stool with her hands to lean back and look at the ceiling or to the side, the front, away and toward him. She would stand up or sit on the floor, reach up or lean down, any pose she could think of.

Being in a room with almost 30 other students just as sleep-deprived and stressed as him, it wasn’t difficult to remain professional with the naked woman in their middle. However, in the evening he thought back to the two hours spent with her body and he imagined what she looked like with clothes; a rather funny thought to have about an attractive woman. Nonetheless, he wondered about what clothes she wore and how she wore them.

Maybe she put on a little bit of light makeup, the stuff that girls always to with their eyelashes and lids – he couldn’t for the life of him remember what the little wands and palettes were called. She’d surely wear that and let her hair flow; it was too pretty to be pulled up in a ponytail.

Her clothes weren’t thought out nor random; a style of her own. Exactly the clothes she liked, fitting jumpers and shirts, with high-waisted pants and jean jackets, picked out randomly every day but still forming a full picture. He imagined what she looked like every day walking across campus and he got lost in the thought of it; free and flowing, so self-composed but also so very herself, just like she was during the lessons.

Whenever the two hours of focused sketching reached their end, she was the first to move, picking up her robe from the ground to put it on and then she left the big room, waving her way through the dozens of easels put up around her little stage. The stool stood in the middle, left there until someone in the next class occupying the room would move it. After the door to the changing room adjacent to the big classroom was closed behind her, the boys – and he could only call them boys because men would give them too much credit – started snickering about the woman who had been amongst them just seconds ago.

Crude comments about her body, rating her curves, whether she was worth being shagged or not and what bra size she most likely had, and Jake hated hearing the demeaning and rude words. It disgusted him, how immature males his age could still be; this was a bloody art class, not jerk-off material for later in the night. The girl wasn’t here to serve as a sexual fantasy but to give them opportunity to study the human anatomy in its most natural state, without photoshop erasing all unwanted blemishes and spots, reshaping forms and curves to society’s liking.  Everyone knew that - or so he thought. The group of three or four guys, one more stupid looking than the other, loved lavishing about the details of her body once she was gone, as if she was theirs just because they thought she was pretty.

It made Jake’s knuckles turn white as he packed up his materials, thrusting his pencils and brushes into his bags. He would brush past them, folded-up easel under his arm to put it back where it belonged next to the exit door and give them his most poisonous look, but they never saw or even noticed his aggressive stalking away, too busy gossiping about primitive topics that should have been done with after high school.

They didn’t deserve to think and talk about her like that. They didn’t respect her body for what it was: art. They didn’t respect the subject, didn’t see it for what it was. Jake knew the excitement that a nude, pretty woman like her could give a man, but he would never take that with him into the lessons. She wasn’t a mere sex object to be gaffed and ogled at; she deserved as much respect as any other woman in the room, maybe even more, for daring to expose herself like that every other week.

However, once he was home, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from lashing out, making him imagine the things she could or couldn’t be. Was she shy or outgoing? Did she like books or did she only read what was required for classes? Did she prefer going out every weekend or rather a relaxing evening with friends, or maybe just a few movies with no one but herself? What about her classes, what she studied, what her side subjects were, and did she like it or not?

When the stress-induced insomnia stole the night away and he laid in bed at night after a long Thursday night, he would allow himself to get lost in these thoughts, imaging who she was. How her smooth legs and slim waist would look in jeans and a jumper, what she’d look like with glasses, hair pulled up in a messy bun with books under her arm, running across campus to get to her class she was late to.

How she’d look in a glittery, skin-tight dress at a party, dancing with her arms high up in the air, her dark hair flowing freely as she whirled and twirled, laughing big and drinking lots, her shape and features drowning in the dim lights and the loud, blasting music.

He was nothing to her, he knew that. It would surprise him if she would even recognize him. He was only one of 30 tired, stressed students she saw maybe once a month; there was no way in heaven or hell she could possibly pick his face from a crowd. This frustrated him in a weird way that sent hot waves through his gut, knowing that her body and face stole hours of his thoughts while she didn’t even know he existed.

He got up the next day at ten a.m., slowly getting ready for his twelve p.m. art history class. College students weren’t known for their exquisite style, especially during test weeks, and Jake had no intention of disputing that: A tomato sauce-stained sweater and dark blue jeans with acryl splatters on them had to do.

He was out of his dorm at eleven a.m., planning to spend half an hour or more at the coffeeshop near his apartment. I would be full, he knew that, but his headphones and the accompanying laptop would help him blend out the crowd while working on some of his soon to be due projects.

Just as he expected, the little shop was filled with tired, coffee induced students at every corner. The walls were white with green and blue flower patterns drawn on top, little tables for four people at most scattered throughout the room. The lights had a comfortable intensity: not too bright for anyone who was still sleepy but not too dark to fall asleep again. It smelled like coffee and sweet, fresh-baked goods and it seeped into his nose, forcing him to inhale deeply and letting out a satisfied sigh. Still, there were too many students and he was about to turn on his heel when he spotted a couple of empty tables towards the back and he sighed in relief as he ordered two cups of coffee, knowing he’d need them.

He put his bag down on the little round table decorated with white napkins and plastic flowers, and sat down onto the stool, scrolling through his phone while he waited for his order to finish and his name to be called out. He almost couldn’t hear it over the loud chatter of his peers in the small, hot-aired room, and he slowly made his way over, eyes still transfixed on the screen as he read a news article about a new art exposition a couple of towns over.

He shoved the phone in his back pocket once he arrived at the counter, needing both hands to transport the cups back to his table and as he turned, a shoulder rammed into his with such a velocity that he stumbled back against the counter, just barely being able to keep the hot, brown liquid from burning his entire front. The other persons coffee however, didn’t meet the same fate. Lukewarm coffee seeped out of the thin cup suddenly pressed against his front, soaking his sweater and he could feel the liquid drenching him, running down his chest. He huffed and looked down his body, wincing at the coffee making its way down his front in slow, big drops. It wasn’t too much to deal with in a public bathroom and some paper towels, but it wasn’t ideal either. He cursed loudly, looking up to throw more profanities at the sod who had almost given him third degree burns from his own coffee when he froze, transfixed on _her._

It was her, no question about it. He would recognize those high cheekbones, doe-y eyes and the hair _–_ _dear god, her hair -_ anywhere.

She was looking at him through wide, scared eyes, scanning down his chest to see how big the damage was that her coffee had caused.

Her hair was pulled up in a tight, high ponytail. He couldn’t see any makeup on her face, except maybe some on her eyelashes and a bight of lip-gloss, but he couldn’t be sure.

His eyes ran down the body he knew so well, and he sucked in a breath, because no matter how long he had imagined it, reality couldn’t hold up to imagination. The dark red turtle-neck jumper lay snug against her skin, the material frizzy, and probably as soft as her hair looked. The deep, burgundy red looked vibrant against her dark-toned skin and he couldn’t see if her pants were high waisted because they disappeared beneath her jumper, but they looked amazing nonetheless, black and complimenting her well-known form better than the stroke of his brush could ever do her justice.

He was taking all of this in as she started rambling excuses, saying she didn’t see him, she would buy him a new jumper and he couldn’t even hear it because his gaze went up to her face again, her brown eyes wide and scared.

“I’ve never seen you with clothes on”, he blurted into her never-ending excuses and she went silent, mouth slightly agape and eyes still wide, however now surprised and a flash of uncertainty in her eyes.

Jake felt the sudden need to bang a pan against his forehead until he wouldn’t have to feel the hot embarrassment flushing hot red under his skin anymore. Was there any worse first thing to say to a girl he had had a dumb crush on for months now?

His slaw slacked just a slight bit and his mouth was open now, lips almost trembling with the hot and heavy air he was breathing in fast, thoughts running amok, desperately trying to find the words to save the situation. The heat rose to his head more and more with every passing second, colouring his cheeks and the tips of his ears a bright pink.

And then, the surprised little “O” of her mouth curved into a smile and her chest heaved as she let out a chuckle, then another, when it suddenly turned into laughter and she her whole body rocked back, eyes squinting with how much she was trying to suppress her reaction. Jake was now the one to be in awe because no matter what he had imagined her smile would look like, nothing could have prepared for what it really was.

It was beautiful and so full, everything from a slight chuckle to loud, belly-holding laughter, filling the air with its sounds and drowning his senses with a flash of teeth, a twinkle in her eyes and the way her face broke out like sunshine. It was so good, he couldn’t help as the corners of his mouth bent upwards too and he started chuckling now, not believing how worried he had been about his slip-up mere seconds ago.

She gradually stopped laughing, turning back into a giggle and her cheeks were flushed, her eyes twinkling with tears.

“Thank you for that, I really needed it. I will replace your jumper though, or at least wash it.”

Her voice was still a bit high from all the laughing and his smile grew even wider.

“Don’t worry about it, it was stained already. I-“he realized how she was smiling at him, an intense stare in her eyes as if she was taking him all in. Dear god, she was so pretty, and he was soaked in coffee. This was all around a bloody awful situation.

Suddenly, his social anxiety rushed through him with a near electric flow, as if he had forgotten it for too long and it was now punishing him daring to push it aside. It crashed through his body like the unforgiving waves of a tsunami, from his fingertips down to his toes, his head heating up again, not because of what he said but because of how he didn’t know anymore how to keep this going. Why did he have to meet the pretty girl from his nude drawing classes like this? Drenched in coffee, blurting out stupid phrases and the heat in his cheeks making it near impossible to speak or even form a coherent thought?

“I- I need to, to… do my assignment for – sorry, I, art history, I mean – uh, see you.”

Jake muttered and blushed his way through the utter calamity of a sentence and he turned on his heel, grips tightening around the cups as the hot coffee inside burned his skin and he left the pretty girl whose name he didn’t even know stranded in the coffee shop. She was gone when he looked back after he slid into the seat with trembling legs, an uncomfortable, tickling warmth all over his body. His head was hot and heavy, screaming with thoughts, about how stupid he was, that he missed his chance to finally talk to her and he groaned loudly, banging his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the gaping hole where she stood two minutes ago.

 

Three weeks later, his heart was hammering in his chest as he waited for their weekly model to enter the room. He had almost not decided to come, the prior two times rendering him absolutely breathless, so scared of seeing her again and risking the chance of her recognizing him. The past two times their models had been the lazy guy and the heavy-bottomed woman, but now his chances were getting more and more narrow. He would have to face her again at some point, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her giving him a confused or maybe even mean look.

The door to the changing room opened and the teacher told his peers to be quiet. Jake was staring at the wall and bit his lip painfully as the light sounds of feet tapping on the floor closed in and the people around him got busy taking out the right pencils for the next two hours.

It was stupid, he knew that, to be so nervous about this. But he couldn’t stop the anxiety as it rose hot and dizzy through his chest, because he could recognize the rhythm of her walk on that floor anytime.

He watched her step into the middle from the corner of his eye and the last murmurs died down as she dropped the robe and sat on the stool. He finally looked at her, only her. Her face now, and not her body. Her eyes met his and she gave him a crooked smile, eyes lighting up with an amused glint in them.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed and please leave kudos or comments, I appreciate anything!!


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